


Beauty and the Deceased

by gr8_rach



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Reyux, Zombie AU, but nothing violent, minor gore because zombies, mostly just fluff and butterflies and moldy bows and bad decisions, reyuxweek2017
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gr8_rach/pseuds/gr8_rach
Summary: Rey goes after what she wants. After all, it IS the 22nd Century. Women are allowed to do the wooing now. Even if they’re...undead.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Day 1 of Reyux Week 2017! I'm super excited—I have something planned for every day, so it should be lots of fun! 
> 
> This one is fluffy—if gore bothers you, this won't. There's a short bit of discussion about decaying and normal zombie issues, but it's all for comedy and fluff, I swear. No violence.

I’ve been watching him. Secretly, of course. If he knew, I’d be dead. Humans are like that—trigger-happy. If I had eyelids, I’d roll my eyes at him. My sweet, adorable, naive human. But I don’t have eyelids, you know. They decayed a long time ago. 

I wonder if he’d think that was...gross. He might. He does seem like the uptight, traditional type. To be quite honest, it’s part of why I love him so much. He’s very no-nonsense. His hair always looks perfect (and whose hair looks perfect in a post-apocalyptic world?! Apparently this guy), and he’s never broken composure in a battle. He’s the best in his company. He hangs back and picks us off with a rifle. The concentration on his face when he’s in the zone? Possibly the most attractive thing about him. Those intense blue eyes? And perfectly intact eyelids. Positively swoon-worthy. 

Yeah, I get it. I have low standards. But I’m a zombie. High standards aren’t exactly a luxury reserved for people like me. And anyway, all the others tell me there’s no way a human like him, like _Hux_ , would go for me. A zombie. He’d never let me get anywhere near him! 

We get a bad rap for the brain-eating thing. Humans make a point of taking us out pretty methodically, slow ones first. They favor shotguns—double-barrelled like it’s some kind of dramatic tv show and oh, that gets gore everywhere, which is gross for the rest of us. Then the snipers (like Hux, be still my heart; when he’s in the zone my poor, mushy heart can’t take it) pick off the faster ones. Anything and everything to ensure their brains stay safe. But here’s the kicker: I don’t even want to eat Hux’s brain! I’d settle for his heart instead. Not to eat—it’s figurative, geez. I just want to love him like he deserves.

Now, here’s the deal. I’ve been watching him, so I know about the ambush they have planned for our zombie troop. And I think it’s my big chance to show him that I really care about him. If he could just look into my eyes for even a second, he’d see it. He’d see my love for him. We could be so happy together. He would feel that. 

Anyway, that’s what I’m doing now, hiding out, waiting for him. I’ve spent a lot of time scouting out the places around our hideout that seem like good spots for a sniper to set up shop, and I think I know him well enough to pick the one he’d choose. He’ll get here, I’ll make my grand entrance and do my best to avoid startling him (hair-triggery humans are pretty dangerous when startled, I’ve seen my best friends taken down that way), and then begin my wooing. After all, it IS the 22nd Century. Women are allowed to do the wooing now. 

He’s coming, I can hear his footsteps, light and sneaky (my auditory system is quite good for my level of decay, if I may say so). He’s rounding the corner. I can see his bright orange hair (my boy never wears a hat, which is his one fatal flaw) and that delicious profile of his. The creamy skin of his cheeks. His fingers tensed around the strap of his gun sling. Oh good, he’s got it on his sling. That means I’ve actually got a chance to say something before he shoots. 

Suddenly, I don’t feel so sure about my plan. I mean. Did I even look into a mirror before I came here? Is my face decay bad today? Did I forget to comb my hair? Now I can’t even remember. Ugh. Even if he listens, he’ll never be into me. Never. Which is a shame, because I understand him better than anyone he knows. 

No! Think positive. I died with a pretty bow in my hair. It’s still there. None of the others have anything fancy like that. I’m also kind, and considerate. I once let Finn have the rest of the brain I found, even though I was still hungry. Those are traits guys like. Plus, I’ve listened and watched, I know Hux. He’s going to love me.

It’s too late, though, for any of my lovey-dovey pep talking, he’s walking past me, he’s probably already smelled me, he’s going to find me. I panic. I jump out (way to go on the “don’t startle Hux” initiative, right?) and I startle myself so badly that _I_ scream. Great. There go my vocal chords. 

To his credit, he reacts exactly like I predicted, his hands pulling the gun sling off his back and pointing it at me. I throw my hands up, though, and I croak, fail to produce a coherent sound, clear my throat, and then try again. 

“Hhhhhhhhh—Huuuuuuuuuxxxxx.”

And honestly? That makes him pause. Man, it must be my lucky day. 

“How do you know my name?” he asks. He hasn’t lowered his gun, but he’s looking right into my eyes with an adorable little frown on his face. 

“Ahhhh—I watch...youuuuu.” Come on vocal chords, just hang on a little more. Verbal communication is a must here. 

“You...you watch me? When? How?” Alarmingly, he raises the gun a little higher where it’s relaxed against his shoulder. For a second he almost tries to look through the scope and then shakes his head at himself and looks me straight in the face instead. 

I frown. The words are so easy in my head, but getting them out. Man. My neural pathways are suffering. “Hair,” I manage, without any slurring or stuttering. 

“My...hair?” He doesn’t touch it, but I can see his fingers twitch. 

“Hat. It would…..help.” 

For a second, the barrel lowers and he seems to contemplate my words. Then he’s squinting, not because he can’t see me, I think. Because he’s confused. I’ve never seen this expression on him before and it’s quite endearing. 

“You’re telling me I should wear a hat so zombies—you—can’t see me?” 

“Oh—too late...too late for that.” 

I can tell he’s trying to be patient, the sweet man (at least, as patient as a man holding a gun can be), but my inability to string full sentences together at the moment is seriously testing his resolve. I know, honey. Me too. 

“So...what’s the point? Why are you here...talking instead of trying to eat me?”

I know, I know I can’t roll my eyes, but he’s such a drama queen. I give it the old college try. 

Unfortunately (I don’t have a mirror, so I can’t tell for sure, but I’m pretty sure) the gesture turns out a little more menacing than I intended, and he raises the gun again. “Wait—you DO want to eat me! You’re just stalling, trying to distract me!” 

“No! No,” I say, raising my hands. “I don’t want...your brain.” 

He doesn’t lower the gun, and I can see his pointer finger fiddling against the trigger. 

“I want...your heart. I…” 

He swallows hard and frowns, but his finger relaxes a little. This is encouraging! It’s working!

“...I love you, Hux.” 

Honest to goodness, Hux drops his gun. This man, who has stood up against armies of zombies who _do_ want to eat his brain with no flinching at all, _drops his freaking gun to the floor_ when I ask for his heart. 

It’s really a good thing I’m one of the faster zombies, because I’m able to dodge that sucker as it goes down. Accidentally getting shot by the love of my life is really not the way I’d planned for this moment to go. Luckily for all of us, it doesn’t shoot, and I managed to lunge away from him, so he doesn’t feel threatened by me. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He picks up his gun again, but to my eternal delight, he doesn’t settle it against his shoulder. It hangs loosely in his hands instead. 

“I—I’m not.” I swallow, dry, against my poor, overused vocal chords. “It’s....destiny. We’re meant to be together.” 

At this, Hux’s eyes widen. “You want me to be a zombie?” 

“Men!” I say, reaching up behind the knotted mass of my hair to adjust the moldy bow. “Always mis...understanding.” 

“So you’d be content to love a human, and you’d want me to love a dead thing?” 

Ouch. Okay, so he hasn’t shot me, but he’s not too keen on my undeadness. That’s some leeway, at least. I can convince him, if he’ll just... 

“Will you...let me show you? A date?” I ask. 

He runs a hand through his hair. It’s so perfectly coiffed, and those long fingers of his just...uncoiff it so deliciously. The thick front pieces fall over his forehead. If it were possible for my heart to beat, it would have stopped then. As is, it gives the ghost of an emphatic throb at the sight. But the point here is that he’s considering it, he is. 

“When...what would we do on this date? How do I know it’s not an excuse to get me alone and eat my brain?” That piece of hair is so distracting, but I look at his eyes like a respectful suitor. 

I shrug. “I suppose...you don’t. But…..aren’t we alone...now?” 

He looks around him, as if realizing for the first time exactly what happened here. I waited for him. He didn’t see me until I was too close for him to possibly make an escape. He was very, very vulnerable. A slow inhale from him, he’s rubbing his fingers over his mouth and looking at me, looking right into my eyes. I can’t contain the butterflies jumping through my gooey ribcage (as far as I know there aren’t any _real_ butterflies, but you never know when half the skin covering them is missing, amiright?). 

“You….you really do care for me,” he says finally. “Ah—against my better judgement, I accept your offer.” 

My grin is likely wide enough to show him just how many teeth I’m missing, but I don’t even care, because when I smile, he smiles, and it’s a sight I’ve never seen before. And it’s fricking _breathtaking_.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "The Zombie Song" by Stephanie Mabey.
> 
> Betaed by the lovely IshaRen here on Ao3 (isharan on tumblr!). Seriously guys. She keeps me sane, she cleans up my crap, and I love her so. She's also doing Reyux Week, and TRUST ME, you wanna go find her and read her stuff. 
> 
> Stick around for more stuff tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow!


End file.
